


Nuevos Ojos

by Rebness



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebness/pseuds/Rebness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Walter White's mid-life crisis means he's seeking out danger and excitement. Falling for a junkie hustler who threatens to turn his world upside down isn't part of that plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Skyler called it a mid-life crisis.

And okay, she probably had a point. He hadn't been reckless enough to invest in a sports vehicle (they hadn't the money for that, let alone the credit rating, anyway). But he had quit his job (both jobs, actually) in a whirlwind of heady insults and masculine posturing. And by some devilish luck, that had turned out okay: he'd found work in a laboratory and made enough to get by comfortably, working less hours and, best of all -- working shifts.  
So Skyler wasn't too suspicious, really. She was clever and perceptive, and though sometimes she questioned him, her ethics were just malleable enough that she didn't probe too deeply. She had lain next to him in bed one night and said with a sigh: 'I just hope the _experimental stage_ of your mid-life crisis fades away soon. It's a little boring.'

Walt didn't agree with the boring part. It had been a revelation, thrilling little moments in his life to punctuate the grey wasteland that was turning 50. He experimented, all right: with weed (mildly fun), gambling (he was best at poker), speeding (dropped after one hefty ticket) and prostitutes.

Well, that had been a sleazy diversion. He refused to admit even to himself how much he actually liked that. Ordering another person around, having their full attention given over to him. Who cared if it was just for cash? Everyone wanted something from someone else, anyway. At least with hookers, there was no pretense. So Walt approached this weekend's New Experience with his usual sangfroid; a motel on the outskirts of Albuquerque where even people like Walter White knew of what went down there: meth (not interested, thank you), hookers (good) and hustlers.

And there was the new experience: fucking a male prostitute. One more on the bucket list of depravity.

He pulled up at The Crossroads Motel, trying and failing not to curl his lip in disgust at the state of the place. The sun was setting but the flattering light didn't do much to hide the motel's many flaws. He got out of the car and made his way to reception, practically having to push past a couple of mean-looking men who were standing at the entrance.  He gave his details to the bored-looking receptionist and paid in cash for two nights, barely listening to her endorsements of the swimming pool and attractions off the freeway. He hurried back to his car to retrieve his clothes; he'd done his research on Craigslist; he'd call one of the hustlers he'd shortlisted as soon as he got to his room.

'Hey.'

He was startled out of his thoughts by one of the men from the entrance, a young Hispanic man in a wife-beater and ridiculous low-slung pants, who was now following him across the parking lot.

Walt took a step back and cast him a wary glance. 'Hello.'

'You stayin' here?'

He forced a smile to his face. 'Yes, I guess I am.'

'You from outta town?'

Fuck it. He levelled his gaze at the man. 'I'm _from_ town. I just want a weekend to get away from it all.'

The man nodded. 'Uh, okay. Cool. Yeah.' He sidled up alongside Walt, smiling a little when he pulled away. 'So, you lookin' for anything in particular? You like to party?'

Walt smirked. 'No. No, I don't like to party.' He opened up the trunk of his car and grabbed his bag.

'Then what you looking for?'

He shrugged, taken aback by the blatancy of the transaction, but determined not to let this punk think he'd been caught off guard. 'What -- who are you offering?'

'I can introduce you to Wendy--'

He shook his head. 'Any males?'

'Yeah,' said the man, sounding offended. 'Of course! Cater for all sorts here.' He considered Walt. 'No offense.'

'Only a little taken.'

The man waved away his comment. 'How long for? Like the weekend? 'Cos that'll cost ya, you know.'

'I'll pay for the weekend. What's the going rate?'

'Depends. You want a young one?'

'I suppose so...' He narrowed his eyes. 'Not _too_ young. Not a _child_.'

'What the fuck do you take me for?' snarled the pimp. 'I got ethics, ya know!'

Walt held up a hand placatingly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean--'

'White boy do ya?'

He nodded quickly. He hadn't given this much thought and certainly wasn't sure if he even had a "type", but anything to get this over with.

'Okay, well.' The man pushed away from his car, pointed a finger at Walt. 'Someone'll be up in 15 minutes. Just one thing: no funny business--'

'Do I look like I'll give you a hard time?'

He laughed humourlessly. 'Nah, I guess not. But no funny business.'

'No,' he agreed, shouldering his bag and making his way up the grimy-looking stairs to his room on the second floor. 'No funny business,' he muttered. He opened up the door to his room and took in the sad little room -- double bed (had the receptionist known? He hadn't specified), ancient-looking television, sad little desk with a coffee maker on it that he wouldn't touch. He wandered over to the bathroom and flipped the light switch, frowning as the shower was revealed in all its grimy glory.

  
Ah, well. He'd regard it as a metaphor for his own fall, or something.

  
He took a quick shower and, after careful consideration, changed into jeans and a sweater instead of pajamas (too blatant, probably not cool enough). He had never had sex with another man before, and wasn't too sure of the protocol. But he prided himself on always being prepared, and withdrew lube, condoms and clean towels from his bag and placed them on the bureau.

The minutes ticked by. The other guy would be arriving any moment.

He glanced at the bureau, a little rattled by the blatancy of everything once again. He swept an arm across the surface and grabbed his belongings, stuffing them back into the bag. It would be more organic -- this ritualised sex-for-cash -- if he could control the speed at which everything happened.

There was a knock on the door. He stood up, alarmed. He felt old, suddenly, and foolish. He ran to the bathroom and turned on the faucet there. 'Come in! I'm just, uh--'

  
He heard the door to the room open and somebody stepping inside. 'Got you what you asked!' came the voice of the man from the parking lot. 'Just give the money to this guy here at the end, he'll look after ya.'

'Okay -- thanks!' he called out.

There was silence in the other room; he imagined the pair exchanging a bemused look. He gripped the edge of the sink until he heard the door open and close again. He regarded himself in the mirror. Right, now go and tell this kid to beat it. This was a mistake.  He wanted sleaze, but not _this_ level of sleazy. He gave himself a sardonic smile, his reflection's eyes cold and mocking. _Back to the old Walter White, I see. Get a grip of yourself! You want this, don't you_? He turned around and walked back into the bedroom. There was a skinny young man in a hoodie sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning forward as he untied his sneakers. Walt watched him, fascinated. He couldn't see his face, but even in that ridiculous oversized hoodie, he could make out a lean young body. A thrill crashed through him at the thought that this man was  _his,_ his to do with as he wanted for the weekend. Maybe this would be a good time, after all. 

The young man began rattling off his prices as if he was a barista at Starbucks. 'Okay, you got a choice: we go like ad-hoc for a night. So it's like $20 for a blow job. $50 for sex. If I stay the weekend, it's a flat $400, you do what ya want. Except kissing. No kissing.' He pulled his sneakers off and sat back, raising a pair of startling blue eyes to meet Walt's gaze.

Horror washed over Walt. He stood there, his mouth open, as Jesse Pinkman, the absolute worst of his students, the little bastard who had engaged in a three-year battle of wills with Walt for daring to try to teach him chemistry, sat on the bed, his own face a mask of shock.

'Mr... Mr. White?'  



	2. Chapter 2

 

'What are you doing here?' Walt choked. Oh, God. Half of Albuquerque would know about this by tomorrow morning. Pinkman was never able to keep his damned foolish mouth shut about _anything_.

Jesse bit his lip. 'I guess I'm here to, like...' he faltered. 'Uh, this is weird. I don't know.' He considered. 'Uh, you do know what this is, right, Mr. White? That guy explained it to you, right?'

  
'Of course I know what it is!' he snapped, allowing the fear to come rushing to the surface now. 'I didn't know it was _you_ \--' He clenched his fists. 'For God's sake! Why -- how have you--'

Jesse grinned. 'I could ask you the same question. Guess we're a bit more alike than you thought.'

'We are nothing alike!' he spat. 'Go on, get out of here. This was a mistake. A _huge_ mistake.'

Jesse stood up, scowling. 'Are you kidding me? I just had to haul ass to get here and 'cos you're suddenly all "Welcome Back, Kotter" I gotta go empty-handed?'

'I'm sorry,' said Walt. 'I've changed my mind. Just go.'

'Yo, if I go back at there with nothin', No-Doze is gonna break my legs!'

'What the-- what's a nodoze?'

'That guy?' Jesse gestured wildly to the door. 'That psycho in the wife-beater? Yeah, he's gonna be totally fine with me wasting his time--' he pointed at Walt frantically, '--with you wasting his time!'

Walt buried his head in his hands. 'This is ridiculous. Look, I'll talk with him, tell him I just changed my mind -- what now? Man up, for Christ's sake!'

'Just give me $20, say I blew you. Then he might only punch me in the face!'

'Get out.'

Jesse looked up at him, his expression pleading. '$10, then.'

Walt rushed at him, picked up his sneakers and pressed them into Jesse's arms. 'I've had enough. Just _get out_!'

'I'll tell him you just didn't pay up!'

'Fuck you!'

'Yeah, you missed that boat!' Jesse hissed. 'No wonder you have to pay for it, you old bastard!' He struggled against Walt's hold as Walt placed one hand in the small of his back and opened up the door, before twisting his other hand in Jesse's hood and pushing him out into the hallway.  

'Get lost, Pinkman,' he hissed.

Jesse opened his mouth to say something when the man who had spoken with Walt earlier appeared behind him. 'Is there a problem?' he asked smoothly.

'No, this bitch just changed his mind, is all--' began Jesse. He gasped in pain as No-Doze grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. 'Wait, I can explain! I was just gonna -- I'll get more tonight, okay!'

No-Doze bunched his fists into Jesse's hoodie and pulled him close.  'Pendejo, you think Tuco's gonna wait forever for the money? You're already behind this week!'

  
Walt blanched. The kid looked terrified, and with reason. He was practically dangling in the pimp's hold.  'No, wait. He's -- I just sent him down to get some food!' he called out.

No-Doze turned to Walt. 'Looked like an altercation-type thing to me, sir.'

'No, nothing of the sort.' Walt spread his hands. 'Just... colorful language, that's all. He's just getting something from the vending machine.'

No-Doze smirked down at Jesse. 'Is that right?'

'Hells, yeah. He wanted Funions.' Jesse gritted his teeth as No-Doze let him go, shoving him back into Walt's direction.

'Vending machine's broken, bitch. Now get back to work.'

Jesse sauntered back to the room, following Walt inside. 'Thanks, man. You see what the fuck I'm up against right now?'

Walt slapped his hands to his head as Jesse closed the door. 'Why is he involved in this, anyhow?'

Jesse reached for the television remote and flipped the channels until he found some insipid sitcom. 'Because he's a bitch,' he muttered, sitting down on the bed.

'That is not an acceptable answer.'

Jesse cast him a baleful look. 'This isn't Chemistry class, okay? I don't hafta tell you.'

'Then maybe you should go back outside.'

'I owe him money, all right!'

'That clown? What for?'

'Not him, his boss. He's a real psycho. A dealer, you know -- oh, right, yeah, you give me that look. Everyone does drugs these days, you know. It's not like World War Two or something, so just relax.'

Walt sighed. 'How much do you owe?'

'I dunno. Like, a couple thousand? But it keeps going up every day, 'cos of the free market and interest or somethin'. And I can't peddle meth around here or he'll probably cut my head off, so this is the next quickest way.' He shrugged. 'I try not to think about it too much, you know? It's fucking grim.'

Walt frowned. 'All right. You can stay the night. Then you leave in the morning, I give you $100, that's it. Okay?'

Jesse regarded him for a long moment. 'You'd do that for me?' he asked. He looked almost timid.

'Just don't annoy me anymore, all right?'

 

They didn't speak much the rest of the night. Jesse's life seemed to consist of diatribes against the teaching staff of JP Wynne (even if Walt was inclined to agree with him about certain faculty members, all that swearing put him off), childish boasts about a jettisoned gangster lifestyle and references to television.

Walt was thankful when it grew late enough for him to demand they go to sleep. He found a blanket and a spare pillow in a closet which stank of mothballs and handed them to Jesse, ignoring the young man's protests about him being a greedy bastard and hogging the bed.

When Walt finally lay down to sleep, Jesse started up again:

'You're seriously going to make me sleep on this floor? It stinks of piss.'

'Yes.'

'C'mon, don't you have a heart?'

'No.'

  
'Mr. White?'

  
'What?'

'It's like sleeping on _concrete_ or something down here.'

'Tough.'

I bet there's roaches.'

'If there are roaches on the floor, there will be roaches in the bed. Shut up and go to sleep.'

Jesse grumbled something under his breath; Walt didn't doubt it was some vulgar, petulant thing. He turned over, switched off the light and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

A car alarm was going off somewhere. Walt stretched and pulled Skyler closer to him, running his hand down the planes of her body, enjoying the warmth of her next to him. He grew hard as he moved against her, his groin pressed against her bottom.

'Jesus, Mr. White...'

His eyes snapped open. He pulled his hand away from Jesse Pinkman, who was looking back at him with a bemused expression.

'What the-- why are you in the bed?'

Jesse slowly sat up, yawning. 'I told ya, the floor was really hard and it was a bit of a waste and you said I could get on the bed anyway--'

'No, I didn't!'

'Uh, you did. I asked you like fifty times and then at like 3am you finally stopped being a hard ass and told me I could. And anyway, I'm still wearing my clothes. It's not like we did anything, so stop freaking out on me already.'

Walt shoved him away. 'Get up. I'm leaving right now.'

Jesse nodded. 'Okay, cool.' He rolled from the bed in one fluid motion and retrieved his coat from the chair. 'Any chance of a ride home?'

Walt glowered at him. 'Always have to take liberties, Pinkman.'

'What? By asking for a lift? This is exactly why I hated you in school.'

* * *

 

 

Jesse handed the $100 to a mean-looking man waiting in reception and then followed Walt to the car. He chattered away between giving Walt directions to his home, but Walt ignored him. He had been cheated out of an experience -- an _experiment_ \-- he had lined up for himself and all he had to show for it was the placebo that was Jesse Pinkman.

'Hey,' said Jesse, breaking him from his sour thoughts. 'That's my house right there. Can you just pull up -- no, a bit closer -- yeah, there. That's my house.'

'Do you want me to wipe your ass, as well?' muttered Walt.

Jesse shrugged. 'If you'd paid me that $400 dollars, you coulda.' He tripped from the car and stumbled towards the house.

Walt shook his head. What a mess. This had been a mistake, _a huge mistake_. Pinkman had surely been a sign from the heavens or something: back off. He silently thanked whatever dark gods had warned him.

 

* * *

 

  
'I wasn't expecting you home until tomorrow.'

Walt pushed past Skyler and into the house, carefully letting her see his work laptop as he placed it on the kitchen table. 'We finished up early. It turned out that someone had ordered the wrong batch...'

Skyler poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite him. 'Uh huh.'

He reached across and grabbed her hand. 'Where's Junior?'

'Out.'

'Why don't we--'

So, where did you really go this weekend?' she said.

'I told you, we were up in Santa Fe for the testing...'

She pushed him away. 'No, Walt. You don't get to lie to me and then do this.'

'Skyler...'

She raised her eyes to meet his, and the words died in his mouth. He loved her for her strength, but it was galling when it ran against his own wishes; it seemed to be a problem which he was increasingly encountering.

He pulled away from her. He couldn't blame her, after all. This was all his own doing. It was his choice. And really, he couldn't help the grudging respect he felt for her as she stood up and walked away. She was a clever woman; he'd never been good at lying to her.

Still, there was the fact that he had just been turned down when he had most certainly been in the mood. He made his way to the bathroom, stripped himself and got in the shower. He soaped himself down, trying to get rid of the grime and dirt from that motel, which surely clogged his very pores and set Skyler's suspicions off.

He closed his eyes as he ran his hands over his body, revelling in the warmth.

An image sprang unbidden to his mind: Jesse Pinkman's warm, lithe young body next to him. He could've had him if he wanted; Pinkman wouldn't have resisted. He could have rolled him over, mounted him and fucked him as hard as he wanted and Pinkman wouldn't have complained or pushed him away. Christ, he was growing hard just thinking about it, having that much power over another person.

He startled himself with the bitter, cynical laugh which gurgled from his throat. Money was everything. Money was power. He could cringe and placate Skyler for the hope of being allowed to touch her, or he could throw $20 at some arrogant young asshole like Pinkman and do whatever the hell he wanted.

A thrill crashed through him. This wasn't a loss of power. This was merely viewing things in a different light. The study of change, and all that.

 

* * *

 

 He passed a pleasant day at work, pleased to lose himself in the minutiae of pulling off various lab reports which swallowed the day and washed the residue of the sleazy failure of  the weekend.

  
He ate lunch in the break room alone, but he was comfortable with his own company and didn't mind that. What he did mind was the pair of trainee lab assistants who flirted outrageously at the next table; resentment welled in him at each obnoxious laugh from them.

That aside, he was in a good mood when he finally left the lab for the day. He whistled while he walked to his car, pulling out his cellphone to call Skyler and tell her he was on his way home.  
He had received a text message from Skyler. He pressed the screen and read it:

_Taking Jr out for dinner. You can look after yourself. You're good at that._

He set his mouth in a hard line. Fine. He wasn't going to snipe at her over text. He threw his belongings onto the back seat of the car and pulled away from the parking lot in fit of pique. She was right to be angry, he knew that; but what would this accomplish? He resented the idea of having to come up with another series of lies and dodges until she dropped the matter, but it seemed that was exactly what he would have to do this time around. He had pushed her a little too far this time, and he was baffled as to what had done it.

  
He didn't take the ramp at his usual exit. He turned up the music on the radio, kept driving. He didn't have a clear destination in mind -- not really -- but once he had decided, he committed to it. He pulled up outside Jesse Pinkman's house and parked the car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, mulling everything over.

He exited the car, slamming the door behind him decisively. He marched across the grass to Jesse's front door and hammered on it.  'Jesse, open up!'

It seemed like an age before the door cracked upon and Jesse stood there, blinking in the sunlight. He was dressed in a t-shirt and boxers and had that bedraggled sleepy look about him. 'Yo,' he murmured. 'What the hell do you want?'

'Can I come in?'

Jesse bit his lip, looked him up and down, and then pulled away from the door. 'Yeah. Come in.'

Walt followed him inside, shutting the door behind him. 'Are you all right?'

'Yeah,' said Jesse. 'Yeah, of course.' He walked over to the couch and collapsed onto it, rubbing his eyes. 'I've just been sleepin', is all.'

Walt nodded. 'Good.'

'Yeah.'

'So.'

Jesse grabbed a can of soda from the coffee table and took a swig. 'Why are you here?' he asked, as he placed it back down.  

Walt frowned. 'What?'

'Why are you here?' Harder now, his tone more like Skyler's.

Walt bristled. 'You owe me $100.'

Jesse leaned forward. 'So?'

'So... where is my $100?'

'Are you serious right now?'

'Deadly.'

Jesse's mouth fell open. 'I thought you were helping me,' he said. He sounded pained.  

'I did, didn't I?'

'I thought you, like, cared--'

'I cared throughout high school, and that didn't do anything.'

'Aw, c'mon Mr. White! Can you just knock it off?'

'Then we'll work out a payment plan. I want my money back.'

'Jesus! You know I can't give you it back for like _years_ or something! Don't you remember what I said about Tuco? I hafta pay him back.' He ran his hands through his hair. 'And you know, I'm gonna pay someone like him back before I do you, what with him being able to kill me and all!'

'Then what do you suggest?'

'I dunno. You paid me for a service and you didn't take it, so maybe you should just accept that there's a no refund policy or something.'

'I paid for a service I didn't get.'

'What, you want it now?' he sneered.

'Yes. You will render the service now.'

'"Render the service", he mimicked angrily. 'Fuck you! It's too late.'

'I saved you. You owe me. Literally.' Walt sat down on the couch opposite him. 'But maybe you need more of an incentive.' He reached into his pocket and took out $10. He flung it at Jesse's feet. 'There. That's $110 in total. Far above your going rate.'

'But Mr. White...'

'Look, you said I helped you. Here's more help. Can you afford to keep turning work down?'

'No,' he said miserably.

'Then what's the problem?'

Jesse scowled. 'Okay! Whatever.' He slid to the floor, dropping to his knees in front of Walt.

'What do we--'

'Can you just give me a minute!'

'Jesse,' he warned.

'Just relax, okay? Make it easier on us both.' He scratched his chin, glancing at Walt, then his crotch, then back up to Walt's face. 'You'd better not be all sweaty and smell like a goddamn _old folk's home_ or something.'

'A hustler with standards, huh? I trust you practice safe sex?'

Jesse shot him a murderous glance. 'Do you wanna use a condom?'

'I don't have any.'

'Is that a problem? 'Cos we can just--'

'Do it,' he said, beginning to loosen his necktie.

Jesse shrugged. 'Fine, it's not like I care about it either way.' With deft hands, he undid Walt's belt and unzipped his pants. He grabbed Walt's cock and brought it to his mouth. Impatient, Walt grabbed the back of his head again and pulled him closer, forcing his stiffening cock deeper into the young man's mouth.

Jesse didn't even protest; he got to work in earnest, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to hold Walt's cock steady as he sucked and licked.

Walt grabbed a handful of his hair and caressed his head lovingly. 'Good boy,' he muttered. 'That's it, Jesse. Good boy.'

He ran his finger's through Jesse's hair and down the nape of his neck, allowing his fingers to slip beneath Jesse's T-shirt and caress the skin there. Jesse shuddered in earnest and glanced up at him, but didn't stop. His mouth was hot and wet around Walt's cock, and he worked him with practiced ease.

Walt gazed down at him dispassoniately.  He had never thought he'd be in this position, that the smart-assed bane of his chemistry classes would be reduced to this, treating him like a master, doing exactly what he wanted. He closed his eyes. Oh, God. He couldn't hold on much longer. It was too much, too perfect. Jesse's smooth face was buried right into his crotch, and the sheer depraved eroticism of it was too much. He felt his stomach knot as the tension grew and then snapped within him. He gasped as he came, instinctively grabbing at Jesse's head again and pushing him closer.

Jesse began to struggle, bracing himself against the couch.

Walt opened his eyes and smiled at him. 'Swallow it,' he ordered.

Jesse shot him a deadly look, his blue eyes glittering with rage. They held each other's gaze for a time before Jesse swallowed. He pulled away when Walt let him, wiping a hand against his lips. 'What the fuck, man!' he growled.

'I paid you, didn't I?'

Jesse stood up and grabbed the can of soda from the table. He drank the rest of it in one go, before pointing an accusing finger at Walt. 'Yeah, well. That was the only time ever, you old bastard. I hope you enjoyed it. Now get the fuck out of my house.'

Walt smirked. 'You owed me a debt, that's all. Now that it's repaid, we part ways for good.'

'Damned right,' said Jesse. He glowered at Walt. 'You enjoyed it, though. Don't pretend you didn't.' He stepped back as Walt moved past him, adjusting his pants. 'Yeah, you fucking perv. That's right, you know it.'  



	3. Chapter 3

Jesse had successfully ignored the alarm on his cellphone through three whole cycles. He couldn't handle the fourth; it continued that irritating buzzing for several minutes. He threw back the bedcovers and grabbed it from the nightstand. 'Shut the fuck up!' he hissed, swiping the alarm off.

  
He blinked at the screen. 2:15pm.  Three missed calls. He flicked to see the number.

Fuck.

No-Doze.

He jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom, pulling off his pants and getting into the shower. He decided to multitask by having a piss in there as he washed himself. It wasn't like Aunt Ginny was around to tell him off anymore and his mother's visits to check he was treating the house 'properly' were growing increasingly infrequent. He suspected she was as relieved to ignore his existence as he was hers.

He somehow managed a quick shave, change of clothes and a breakfast of half a Twinkie and a bottle of Gatorade within quarter of an hour. He grabbed the stash of bills he'd accrued over the last few days from a cookie jar on a shelf in the kitchen and made his way to his car, typing out a hurried text to No-Doze:

_Be there in 30. Got money._

It was a muggy day, with the white-hot sun beating down. The steering wheel was hot to the touch and he growled under his breath as he lowered the windows to let the air in as he floored the gas pedal and made his way to Salamanca's quarters. He played his music at full volume, better to drown out any useless wondering at how he had managed to sink so far within the space of six months, beholden to the biggest psycho he'd ever seen, reduced to being ordered about by assholes like Mr. White, whom he thankfully hadn't seen since that last strange encounter with him the week before.

  
He parked his car a couple of blocks away and made the rest of his way on foot. He didn't like to remind No-Doze that he had a car which could fetch a good price and clear his debt off in one go. For the Monte Carlo, Love of his Life, he'd put up with giving some desperate dudes blow-jobs for a while.

There were a few people milling around outside, and Jesse's heart beat faster when he saw that No-Doze was amongst them, sitting on the steps. He hated nothing more than going upstairs to face that volatile prick Tuco; he'd met him twice and had come away from the encounter bruised and shaken both times.

'Hey,' he said, sauntering up to No-Doze.

The other man turned to him, scowling. 'Where the hell you been?'

'I sent you a text--'

'I called you _three times_ , you little shit!' He stood up and closed the distance between them, towering over Jesse.

'Yeah, I'm-- look, I'm sorry. I was asleep, but I came as soon as--'

'Fucking shut up.'

'Uh, okay.'

'You got the money?'

Jesse reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of notes. 'Sure, here.' He watched as No-Doze began counting through it. 'There's $820 there,' he said hurriedly. 'I know you were pissed last week when it was down, so I thought this'd be better, y'know, show that--'

No-Doze shrugged, furled the money back up and placed it into his own pocket. 'Better, but you're still fucking behind, aren't you?'

'Yeah, but...'

'I want a straight thousand next week.'

'Yeah, about that. Like, how much do I owe now? What's the balance?'

'Four and a half. What? You got a problem with that?'

Jesse held out his hands pleadingly. 'But it was like $5,000 last week.'

'Yeah, and then there's the fucking interest, isn't there?' He smirked. '$500 asshole tax every week you don't pay in full. You got off light this week.' 

'Aw, come on! I'm never gonna clear it at this rate!'

'You got a problem? You want to renegotiate with Tuco?' No-Doze gestured to the door. 'Be my guest.'

Jesse shook his head. 'No, it's _fine._ Whatever. See you next week.'

'Straight-up thousand,' said No-Doze. 'Maybe spend less time sleeping and more time fucking, you know?'

Jesse bit back the retort and made his way back to his car.

* * *

 

   
Storm clouds had gathered overhead by the time he pulled up at The Crossroads. He sat on the balcony with Wendy, watching moodily as the first rain began to fall. 'It's gonna be shit tonight,' he muttered. 'Nobody's gonna drop by when it's like this.'

Wendy took a drag of her cigarette and gave him a cynical smirk. 'They'll still come. They always do.'

'Yeah, but you undercharge and fuck the rest of us over.'

'I get the most business, don't I?'

'Because you undercharge!'

'Maybe it's because I give the best blow jobs.' She held up her lighter as Jesse took out a cigarette, put it to his mouth and held it to the flame. 'You've got great blow-job lips, though. Bet they love it.'

'They love everything, the dirty bastards.'

'Yeah.' She gazed off over the parking lot, and stared at the distant Sandia mountains, almost completely obscured by the low-hanging cloud, for some time.

Jesse shuddered, the first nervous tic ricocheting down his spine. 'Got anything for me?' he asked hopefully.

Wendy shook her head. 'Nah. They didn't want burgers today so I got nothin'.'

'What?'

She shrugged. 'Maybe some crystal tomorrow. Hey -- here's one now. Oh, middle-aged guy, family vehicle, in a suit.' She took another drag of her cigarette. 'Think this one's for you.'

 

* * *

 

  
In the months Jesse had been hustling, he discovered that even the most extraordinary or depraved of circumstances, life tended to gravitate towards the routine. He was on autopilot as he worked his way through the night, the hesitant exchanges with first-time clients, the mercifully short and efficient transactions with the regulars.

His teeth were the product of excellent and expensive dental care as a teenager and he was careful to wash his mouth out after each encounter.

He ate a couple of bags of Funions.

One of the hookers shared a few tokes of meth with him, and from them on the night was rapid, intense, easy. He passed it in a blur, and when the haze wore off sufficiently so that he was lucid enough to register that he was face down on a mattress being fucked by a big oaf who was eagerly grabbing at his shoulders, he decided he had endured enough for one night.

The guy didn't last long, and no sooner had he finished than Jesse pulled away and began putting his clothes back on.

'Wait,' said the man. 'You're not staying?'

'Nah,' he said. 'Ice Road Truckers is on tonight. I gotta get going.'

'What? Are you serious? I _paid you_ for the night. You stay the night.'

Jesse shook his head. 'Naw, man. I'm out.'  

The man looked furious. 'Give me half back, then.' He held out his hand, clearly expecting him to give in.

Jesse sneered at him. 'Fucking take it. I'm not your bitch.' He counted out the money and threw half onto the bed.  He walked to the door and pulled it open. 'And take a shower. You smell of headcheese.'  Jesse zipped up his hoodie and plunged his hands into his pockets, stalking from the room.  

When he was back in his car, he pulled out the wad of dollar bills he had earned and counted through them. $250.  He stared down at the money, frustration rising within him. He was never going to pay that crazy bastard back.

 

* * *

 

  
It was just after ten when he pulled up at his home. He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat for a while, struggling against the wave of hopelessness which was more relentless than ever tonight. How long until he was no longer treading water?

He unfastened his seatbelt, gathered the money together along with the wonderfully greasy take out he had picked up at the Dog House, and got out of the car. He was halfway across his lawn when he noticed the ugly Aztek parked a little way down. Disbelievingly, he left his food on the porch and stormed over to the car, where of all people, Mr. White sat in the driver's seat like a world-class stalker.

'What the hell are you doing?' he snarled, tapping on the window.

Mr. White wound down the window. 'Get in,' he said calmly. 'We need to talk.'

'No! Get the hell away from here, you crazy psycho stalker!' Jesse hissed. 'I don't owe you anything else, so just go get it off your goddamn wife or something--'

'Jesse,' he said, in that cold teacher tone he had used on him many times. 'Get in the car.'

Jesse threw up his hands, but he did so, anyway. He stomped over to the other side and pulled the passenger door open. He slid inside and sat there glaring at Mr. White. 'So talk. And hurry up, because I'm starving.'

Walt glanced at him, then away again. 'Still working for the dealer?'

'Yeah, so what?'

'How much do you owe, anyway? Did you ever find that out or, like most things in life, does it remain a mystery to you?'

'Get bent, asshole. I know down to the cent what I owe.' He growled when Mr. White didn't answer, only continued to stare at him. '$4500, okay!' He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. 'And like $500 interest for every week I still owe him. What a _prick_.'

Walt frowned 'So we both have a situation here.'

'Let me guess: your wife doesn't understand you.'

Walt gripped the steering wheel. 'No, she understands me perfectly. That's the problem.'

'What's the problem?'

He didn't answer. He was silent for some time, and Jesse regarded him with a mounting sense of anger. 'Yo! Will you just tell me already!' he burst out. 'What do you want? I'm fucking tired, ya know, and I don't got--'

'I have a proposition for you.'

'What?'

Mr. White turned to him then, his gaze level. 'I said I have a proposition for you. And it is this: I pay off your debt. Tomorrow. All $4500.'

Jesse stared at him. 'Why?' he asked. Then, the anger returning to his voice: 'it's not out of goodwill, is it? Last time you helped me you came back like the Godfather or somethin'!'

Walt smirked. 'There's no such thing as a free lunch, you mean. And there isn't. The deal is you stop hustling at that cesspool. You work for me instead. And me only.'

'Uh, I still gotta eat, you crazy old--'

'If seeking gainful employment is beyond you, then I will continue to pay you appropriately for your services.'

'Where are you gonna get that kind of money?' 

'That's my concern, not yours.'

Jesse narrowed his eyes. 'So, let me get this straight. You'll pay my debt off, and you'll keep paying me for -- what was it? -- oh, yeah. "Rendering a service" and the condition is I stop "rendering a service" to other guys?'

'You make it sound as if it's somehow less noble than what you're doing already. Look, all I'm--'

'I'm in.'

'What?'

'You heard me. I think. I dunno how your hearing is.' He pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, wrinkled his nose at Walt. 'At least you don't smell like headcheese.'


	4. Chapter 4

Jesse sat watching with a scowl on his face and a beer in his hand as Walt pulled into the drive. 'You said three in the afternoon,' he said as Walt got out of the car.

'Yes. It's 2.50pm. What? You want me to circle the block a few times? Give you more time to focus on the Whimsical Wonderings of Jesse Pinkman?'

Jesse narrowed his eyes. 'Hey, fuck you. Maybe I just needed a drink or ten to work myself up to letting your wrinkled old ass come anywhere near me.'

Walt didn't rise to the bait; he knew Jesse's impotent needling of old. Whenever Pinkman had been forced to actually knuckle down and do some work, he had lashed out with bitter insults. Well, he wouldn't be allowed to wriggle his way out of this situation: Walt was determined that this talisman of every time he had failed to gain control over a situation would pay the price. 'Did you pay the dealer off?' he asked quietly.

Jesse sighed. 'Yeah, I paid him off. The whole £4500.' He shrugged. 'That's it, no more trouble from that prick.'

'You're sure?'

'Yeah!' He flinched as Walt continued to stare at him. 'Oh, what? You think I've snorted it, do ya? You think I was _lying_ or somethin'?'

Walt's smile was cynical. 'I don't care. I gave you the money, as promised. You paid your way out of your contract with Tuco, as promised. Now you fulfill the terms of my contract, right?'

Jesse rolled his eyes. 'Right.' He stood up, downing the rest of the beer as he led Walt into the house. 'Let's get started, then.' He sauntered through the den and, with a wave of his hand, bade Walt follow him up the stairs. He led him into a room which was a clash of middle-aged chintz decor and the unmistakeable squalor of a young man's bedroom. Clothes were scattered across the floor; the bed was unmade.

Walt grimaced. 'You're a fan of that motel, I see?'

Jesse furrowed his brow. 'What?'

'Nothing,' said Walt. He watched as Jesse began to make the bed. 'Should I undress?'

'Well, yeah. Unless you just want to dry hump.' Jesse glanced at him. 'If you want to do that, that's cool, though.'

'No, don't be ridiculous.' He unbuttoned his shirt and, pulling it off, placed it on the dresser. He reached down and untied his shoes, kicking them off before he pulled down his pants. 'I was thinking; we should--'

He stopped when he marked Jesse staring at him. 'Is there something wrong with me?' asked Walt. He didn't consider himself a vain man, but it was off-putting that a kid who slept with people desperate enough to pay for him at that flea-ridden motel was staring at him with an expression he could only describe as uncomfortable.

'No...' said Jesse, still staring.

'Then what?' he asked. He could hear the rising impatience in his own voice.

'I don't know... it's a _bit_ weird.' Jesse frowned. 'You're like my teacher.'

'Grow some balls, will you? It was nearly a decade ago!'

'Yeah, but still.'

'Look, I _paid_ you--'

'Chill, will ya!' snapped Jesse. 'I'm not backing out or anything, Jesus!' He reached over his own shoulders and pulled his T-shirt off. He spread his hands wide. 'C'mon, then, bitch!'

'Do _not_ call me that!' said Walt, glowering. He reached down and picked up his pants, carefully folding them before he placed them on the chair.

'Yo, you even make this boring.'

'I should have known that basic care of your possessions was beyond you,' said Walt, turning back to him.

'Take off your tighty whities, then.'

'You haven't even taken your jeans off.'

Jesse scowled. 'Duh, don't you want like a blow job or something first?'

'No,' said Walt, speaking slowly and deliberately as if he were talking to an idiot. 'If you satisfy me in that way, then we can't move on to the actual act, can we?'

Jesse grinned, his teeth flashing in a way which was calculated to annoy. 'Ah, yeah! Of course, you old dudes can't get it up for _days_.' He rubbed his nose. 'You, uh, you taken some Viagra or something?'

'If you're actually good at this one thing, why would I need to?' he shot back.

'This "one thing",' Jesse muttered angrily. 'I'll show you, prick.' He tangled his fingers with Walt's, his manner so confident and sultry that Walt was charmed despite himself; he allowed Jesse to lead him to the bed, and when Jesse hooked his fingers into Walt's underwear, swiftly divesting him of his briefs, he didn't protest.

Jesse pulled off his own pants and then everything was heated, rushed; their heated banter was gone as Jesse took the lead, pulling Walt to him. He pushed Walt onto his back and then clambered on top of him, running his hands over Walt's chest, leaning down and licking a trail from his nipples down to his belly.

Walt felt desire explode within him. Jesse's gaze was intense, his expression solemn. His hands, more delicate than Walt's, but rougher and more eager than Skyler's, wandered the length of Walt's body, exploring, caressing. No, Walt decided; that was unfair to Skyler. When they'd first been together, and before he'd found that first troublesome grey hair, it had been like this. They had been like this.

Jesse leaned over Walt and reached for the bottle of lube he had ready on the nightstand. He poured some into his hands, tossed the bottle to the floor and took hold of Walt's cock, caressing him as he applied the lube.

Walt blinked. 'I can't believe we're--'

'Shh,' said Jesse. 'Are you ready? I'm gonna get on ya now and--'

'No.'

Jesse stared down at him. 'No?'

'Not like this?'

'Like what, for Chrissake?'

Walt reached up and gripped his torso, then flipped him over, so that Jesse was now supine on the bed, Walt leaning over him. 'This way. This is how I want it to be.'

Jesse rolled his eyes. 'Sure, whatever.' He reached up and wiped the rest of the lube onto Walt's chest. 'Watcha staring at me like that, for? Where did you want me to put it?'

'Perhaps on yourself?' said Walt. 'Now you're staring at me -- I've never -- not with a man before. You're going to have to talk me through things, I think.'

'What's there to tell ya? It's the same as with a chick except ya -- you taught _science_.'

'I taught chemistry. This is more biology. Did I teach you nothing?'

'Nope,' Jesse scowled. 'And can you just hurry up? I don't got all day, you know.'

'Oh? You need to file some reports at the office, do you?'

'Don't be such a dick,' he grumbled, but he opened his opened his legs wider as Walt lowered himself more fully onto him. 'Oh my God, you're so heavy!' he complained, but there was no heat to it. He wore a tolerant expression as Walt ran his hands over his chest. 'Go on, then.'

'I just--'

'Yeah, for-- just yeah, guide yourself in--' He hissed and closed his eyes as Walt began to enter him.  

'Like this?' asked Walt.

'Yeah...' He shifted position, pushing Walt up a little so he could move his legs and instead hook them over Walt's shoulders. 'Try now, it'll be easier.'

Walt took a deep breath. 'Jesse.'

'Yeah?'

'Open your eyes.'

'Why?'

'Because.'

'What the fuck?' said Jesse, but he did so, anyway. He opened his eyes to see Mr. White staring at him intensely. A smile -- he later decided it was a little cruel -- creeped across Mr. White's face. They locked gazes as Walt pulled back a little, and then slid into him in one go. Jesse gasped, closed his eyes, then remembered Mr. White's order. He opened them again. He splayed his hands across Walt's chest. 'Just gimme a minute, let me get used to it,' he said. He shifted his hips a little, adjusting to the warm dull ache of Mr. White inside him. 'Okay, yeah. Let's do it.'

He pulled Walt closer to him, one arm around his shoulders, the other reaching back to hold himself steady against the bedframe as Walt slowly began to push in and out. At first it was slow, deep; lined with a little pain. But then Walt found a rhythm; he settled against Jesse more heavily, his thrusts harder and faster.

Jesse gritted his teeth, listening to Mr. White's ragged panting in his ear. He concentrated on the feel of Mr. White within him. He'd tried not to dwell on the fact that a teacher -- and not even one of the ones he'd had a crush on -- would be doing this to him. It had freaked him out. But now that it was happening, it wasn't so bad. And Mr. White wasn't too bad at it, he had to admit.

He reached down and began jacking himself off as Mr. White's rhythm began to falter. He knew from experience that Mr. White was close to the edge, and he was prepared for it when the other man let out a gasp and then collapsed on top of him.

He slapped Walt's back. 'Yeah, not bad,' he said. He pulled his legs from Walt's shoulders and sat up as Walt rolled off him. 'How was it for you? And don't try to tell me about electrodes or something,' he said quickly. 'I don't wanna know.'

'Jesse,' said Walt. 'Just be quiet for a minute, hmm?'  He leaned back against the bedframe, wiping sweat from his brow.

'Okay.' Jesse watched him for a little while, then clicked his tongue. 'Okay, so.'

'So?'

'You gonna leave now?'

'We're not finished here,' said Walt. 'We scheduled until nine, remember?'

Jesse scowled. 'Yeah, well. We'll see if you can even get it up.' He reached behind himself and pushed a couple of pillows against the bedframe so he could sit up. 'I bet this is like a dream to you. All those times in class, I bet you just wanted to fuck me, you horny old bastard.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Walt scornfully. 'You were what, 15?'

'I was good-looking even then, you know it.'

'You were a pimply little shit, just like all those other pimply little shits.'  

'So what's changed?'

He reached over and ran his hands over Jesse's body, exploring, possessive. 'This, for a start. Like you said, it wasn't too bad.'  

'See?' said Jesse. 'I told ya, I'm good at this.'

'Hmph. I don't know. Can you be more than just _good_? I can get 'good' anywhere.'

'Depends,' he said. 'Depends totally on what you have in mind.' He reached his arm to the nightstand, opened up a drawer and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. 'Mind if I smoke? Too bad, it's my fucking house.' He placed a cigarette in his mouth, but paused as he raised the lighter. 'What's the matter now?'  

'I'm just thinking,' said Walt.  He smiled. 'You know, getting things in mind.'  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A PWP chapter before things, in the BrBa tradition, have to go sour.

  
'That thing on your shelf,' said Walt.   
  
'The butt plug?'  
  
'Do you ever--'   
  
Jesse rolled over, grinning. He pulled the bedsheets around himself and plucked a cigarette from the nightstand before lighting it. He scratched his head, holding the cigarette delicately between a couple of fingers. 'Yeah, you fascinated by that, are you?' He took a drag of his cigarette. 'You've been comin' here for weeks and I see you notice it every time, but you've never asked.'   
  
Walt shrugged. 'I don't know what gay men get up to.'   
  
'Uh, having sex with a man doesn't make me gay.'   
  
Walt furrowed his brow. 'I'm pretty sure it does.'  
  
'No, I just take money from you sweaty fucks and I don't think about it further than that. If I were like flipping burgers, it wouldn't make me a freakin' cow.'  
  
Walt shook his head. 'What?'   
  
Jesse merely shrugged in response.     
  
'So, what,' said Walt, determined to pursue his questioning despite Jesse's growing surliness. 'You work for women as well?'  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes. 'No, _obviously_.'   
  
'Then you're telling me--'  
  
Jesse scowled in response to Walt's smug smile. 'You don't get it, do ya, asshole? I don't sleep with women for money because I respect women and I don't wanna take advantage of them.'   
  
'You don't see the misogyny in that statement?'   
  
'Get the fuck outta here. Men are assholes, you know it, I know it.' He took a long  drag of his cigarette and blew it in Walt's face, smiling to see his disapproval. 'Don't look at me like that, okay? Do you think you're a good person?'  
  
'I'm not interested in that,' said Walt irritably. He reached over, took Jesse's wrist firmly in his grasp and pulled him closer.   
  
'Hey--' said Jesse. He stubbed out the cigarette with his free hand and followed Walt's pull, settling into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Walt's shoulders as Walt lay him back against the bed. He was used to this part of their trysts by now: the curious time where Walt examined him; Jesse figured it was part of his science kink.   
  
This wasn't too far from the truth: Walt took care to approach each new aspect of his time with Jesse as an experiment; he mustn't lose sight of the ereason for this, allow his judgement to be clouded by something as weak and as predictable as tiresome human emotion. Hedonism was fine; sincerity was not.   
  
But Jesse wasn't so much long-suffering lab rat as he was a rescued dog, fascinating Walt with his dependence and unveiled hero worship. Walt told himself he was alarmed and this, and it was true, but he refused to acknowledge even to himself that he was secretly charmed.   
  
He stretched obligingly as Walt ran his hands down his body, exploring, possessive; when Walt squeezed the flesh below his ribs, he thrashed about with pleasure. 'Jesus, Mr. White...'   
  
'Hush,' ordered Walt. He ran his hands back up Jesse's torso and along his arms, grasping his wrists to hold him down better. 'Turn over, now.'   
  
There was a tattoo of a skull on Jesse's back, planted firmly between his shoulder blades. The sight of it never failed to send a thrill crashing through Walt; how many times had he stared at it while Jesse thrashed and moaned beneath him? Too many, Walt decided. He needed to shake things up a little, try a different approach. The experiment must go on.

 

* * *

  
The very next day, he stood in Jesse's bedroom holding out a pair of handcuffs. 

Jesse bit his lip. 'You wanna chain me to the bed?' 

'Too far?'

Jesse's laugh was scornful. 'You're so vanilla.' 

Walt flushed. 'We can't all be decadent little junkies, can we?' He smirked as Jesse muttered sullenly under his breath. 'Now hold out your right hand. Careful -- I don't want them to constrict you.' 

'They're just novelty cuffs--' 

'No. They're police-issued. DEA, actually.' 

Jesse paled. 'You're with the DEA?' He began to struggle. 'What is this? A sting? I haven't got--'

Walt reached forward and grabbed his arm. He held him still. 'No, my brother-in-law is. I just borrowed them from him. Besides, don't you think the sting would have ended before we had sex?' 

Jesse regarded him for a long moment. 'I don't know...' he muttered. But  he did not pull away when Walt closed the cuff around his wrist, or resist when the other half of the handcuffs was snapped around the bedframe. He watched passively as Walt reached forward and unzipped his jeans, dragging them down over his legs. His boxers were quickly removed and he lay naked and helpless before Walt. 

'I just--' began Walt, but he couldn't find the words he wanted to say. He stood at the foot of the bed watching Jesse for a little while, gratified to feel his cock hardening at the sight before him. He turned and stalked from the room and returned carrying the clunky new cameraphone Walt Jr. had insisted he buy. He fumbled with the on-screen controls before he brought up the camera. He held the cellphone before him and took a picture of Jesse, who gave him a startled look when he heard the telltale shutter sound. 

'Hey, no photos! Put that away, you bitch!' 

'Don't be ridiculous,' sneered Walt. 'You've done worse than been photographed.' 

'I don't care, just stop!' 

'What are you going to do, hmm?' 

Jesse's eyes widened; whether with fright or rage, Walt couldn't be sure. He took a picture of Jesse's face, then another. He stood back placidly as Jesse began to thrash and growl threats at him. 'This is going to happen, whether you like it or not. So conserve your energy because after I've taken this photographs, I'm going to fuck you into the mattress.' 

Jesse tensed. 'What? You talk to me like that after you're -- what are you doing? Blackmailing me?' He reached his left hand to the cuffs and attempted to undo them, but they held firm. 'What the fuck, man!' 

'Please,' said Walt. 'What would I extort from you?' 

'Uh, I dunno. Like, sex?' 

'We're already at that stage,' said Walt. He gave Jesse a sardonic smile. 'Now behave.' 

'Why are you taking these pictures? Are you gonna whack off to them later or something?' 

'Or something,' agreed Walt. 'Now open your legs.'  

'C'mon, Mr. White!' pleaded Jesse. 'Just tell me you're gonna whack off to them and not sell them to like a porn site or something.' 

'This is for me, and me only. I assure you.' 

Jesse sighed. 'Fine. Whatever.' He opened his legs, gave Walt a sly smile as he took a picture. 'Like you say, I've done worse.' 

'Good boy,' said Walt, ignoring him. 'Hold still, now. That's it.' He paced around the bed, taking photo after photo. Jesse's mutinous expression slowly gave way to one of resignation, and then mild amusement. By the time Walt had finished, he too was aroused, his eyelids heavy, his cock stiff. 

Walt tossed the cellphone onto the chair and returned to the bed. He was painfully hard. He stripped quickly, coated himself in lube and wiped the remainder on Jesse's ass, then lowered himself on top of Jesse. He slid inside Jesse without preamble, and before Jesse could draw breath, he began fucking him quickly, deeply.

Walt rode him hard, shoving into him so that Jesse was  pushed up the bed. Jesse wrapped one arm around Walt's back to steady himself, while the cuff around his other arm clanged against the bed frame each time Walt pulled back and then shoved into him again. 

Jesse wrapped his legs tighter around Walt's torso. They were so intensely close that Walt could feel him flexing his toes as he was fucked. He glanced down at Jesse and was undone by the sight of him with his eyes tightly shut, his mouth open slightly as he panted with the exertion of being taken by Walt. 

They were both gasping as Walt's thrusts became more frantic, faltering in rhythm as the familiar tightness coiled in his belly and his senses were enflamed by the irresistible dogged race towards completion. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a powerful orgasm wrung its way from him; he pressed harder against Jesse, ignoring the younger man's protest, as he released himself deep inside Jesse, coating him with his seed. 

He propped himself up on his hands and held himself over Jesse for a few moments, then slowly withdrew his softening cock from him. 

'Fuck,' gasped Jesse. 'Yeah, yeah. I needed that.' He smiled at Walt. 'You horny old bastard. I'm wiped out.' 

It was foolish, Walt knew, but he couldn't help the sense of pride those words ignited within him. He still had it. 

He reached between Jesse's thighs, fascinated by the thrill which ran through him when he marked his own sperm there. He had done that, this was evidence that he had fucked Jesse Pinkman. He was growing hard again at the very thought. Christ, this was what it felt like to be young, constantly aroused. He'd forgotten what that felt like. 

He moved up Jesse's body to kiss him. 

Jesse grunted and turned his head to the side. 

'What's wrong?' asked Walt. 

'I told ya,' said Jesse. 'No kissing.' 

'But you have to do what I tell you.' 

  
'Not that.'   
  
'So you'll allow me to fuck you different ways, photograph you, say whatever I want -- but you won't kiss me?'   
  
'Yeah.'   
  
'I don't know if I like that.'   
  
'I don't give a fuck what you like. Them's the rules.'   
  
Walt glared at him. Resistance was an instant come down from the euphoria he had been feeling. He reached down between Jesse's thighs again and rubbed his fingers against the wetness there. He waved his hand in front of Jesse.   
  
'Clean my fingers.'   
  
Jesse gave him a challenging stare, as if this, too, was mundane and vanilla. He leaned forward and ran his tongue over Walt's fingers.   
  
'Clean them properly,' said Walt throatily.   
  
Jesse's blue eyes crackled with unhidden anger. He took Walt's fingers into his mouth one by one, sucking and licking them while he held Walt's gaze steadily.   
  
Walt watched him, swallowing. Even in utter submission, this junkie wastrel disarmed him. He wasn't sure if he liked it. 

 

* * *

 

  
Much later, Walt sat in his car at the driveway to his house. He held the cellphone in his hands. He flipped through the photographs, casting a coldly methodical eye over them. He deleted them one by one. He was arrested by the sight of one picture where Jesse stared straight into the camera, his gaze soft and trusting. He scrolled past that picture and deleted the rest.  
  
He pocketed the cellphone and locked up his car before making his way to the house. Skyler had laid out a simple meatloaf dinner, and Walt Jr. had already protested and left the house with Lewis to grab dinner from McDonalds.   
  
Walt passed a pleasant dinner talking with Skyler about his work at the lab, asking about her day with Marie and various mundanities. This was a mistake; if he had looked up at her properly, if he hadn't been moody and contemplative of the day he had just spent, he would have seen the cynical look in her eyes, noticed the displeased twist of her mouth as he led her through the fictional events of the day.   
  
Skyler, ever the author, was an expert at dramatic timing. And so she waited until he placed his knife and fork onto the plate and proclaimed it a great meal to clasp her hands together and with soft feminine malice, ask him, 'So, tell me about the boy you're fucking.'   
  



	6. Chapter 6

Skyler clasped the wine glass in front of her, took a gulp, and raised her eyes to Walt. 'I'm still waiting for an answer.'  
  
Walt spread his hands. 'What do you want me to say? You come out with some vulgar accusation and you expect me to do anything but wonder if you've lost your mind.'  
  
'I asked Hank to check up on you.'  
  
'How dare--'  
  
'And he saw you, and he followed you to this boy's _house_. He's been picked up before. Drug use, a couple of times. But his last few arrests? Prostitution.' She wrinkled her nose. 'Really, Walt? This is your latest venture into squalor, is it?'  
  
'W-what?' Walt stammered. When Skyler didn't answer, only continued to stare at him, he cast about for a lifeline, found it. 'Jesse Pinkman is an ex-student of mine, Skyler. He's lost his way.'  
  
'Uh-huh.'  
  
'I ran into him a few weeks ago -- he was messed up. Really messed up.' He shook his head. 'I've been trying to get him on the right path.'  
  
'What exactly does that entail, Gandhi?'  
  
'Well, I'm trying to get him a job. At the lab, you know.'  
  
'I'm sure they'll be impressed by his experience in narcotics and hospitality services.'  
  
'So is that it?' said Walt, channelling the fear and alarm he felt into a dishonest anger. 'You want me to just _write him off_ because he made some mistakes?'  
  
'Mistakes,' she scoffed. 'That's a good one. We've had plenty of them around here lately.'  
  
'What is that supposed to mean?'  
  
She leaned forward. 'Listen to me: I have stood by you through the last couple of months. I have turned a blind eye to your mid-life crisis. Do not bring trouble to this house. Do not humiliate me, Walter.'  
  
'Never,' he said hoarsley. 'Family comes first.'  
  
'I want you to stop, then.'  
  
'I can't just stop.'  
  
'Walt, I'm serious.'  
  
He sighed. 'Look, give me a few more weeks, all right? Let me help this student--'  
  
'Ex-student.'  
  
'Let me help this ex-student. It makes me feel good. That's the truth of it. It makes me feel alive.'  
  
She looked up at him. 'Pass the salt, please.'  
  
He picked up the salt cellar and passed it to her wordlessly. They ate in silence; Walt felt relief wash over him. Better silence than the questions, her disbelieving gaze. Things were back on track.  
  
'You know,' said Skyler finally. 'There was time when you only needed us -- Junior and I -- to feel alive.'  
  
'Skyler--' he began. When she raised her head to him again, the words died on his tongue. 'This meatloaf... it's great,' he said.

 

* * *

  
  
  
'It all checks out, I'm telling you,' said Badger. He pointed at Skinny Pete. 'Dennis is totally a serial killer. Remember the episode with the zip ties in his trunk? Why would he have them?'  
  
'They're just tryna like throw us off, is all,' said Skinny Pete. 'Dude has a fetish, he even says so.' He grinned at Jesse. 'Bet you've seen way worse.'  
  
Jesse shrugged. He took a long drag on his cigarette. 'All kinds of freaky shit. There was one guy...' he shook his head. 'Nah, it was too weird. I don't even wanna talk about it.'  
  
'That's why you need to get back into cooking,' said Badger. 'It's much better than having some fat old guy sweatin' all over you.'  
  
'Hey, I get paid to lie on my back. Don't hate me 'cos nobody would pay for your ugly ass.' He flinched when Badger gave him a good-natured thump to his arm. 'Anyway,  you know what an office job is? It's like worse than prostitution 'cos my shitty job is over in half an hour, but you have to sell yourself for like nine hours a day.'  
  
'Sales is a noble profession,' said Badger. ' _Honest_. Unless it's like The Boiler Room or something, but yeah, someone's gotta sell shit.'  
  
'And besides,' Jesse went on. 'Even if I could find another cooking partner -- you heard about Emilio gettin' sent down, right? -- it's not like I can cook anything while that psycho Tuco's about. Why doesn't he just fuck off?' he muttered darkly.  
  
Skinny Pete shifted uncomfortably. 'Speaking of that--'  
  
'Yeah, yeah, I know.' Jesse reached into a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wad of notes. 'There's 200, with 20 for you for makin' the drop.' He scowled. 'Whatcha staring at me like that for?'  
  
'Jesse...  I told him there'd be like 500 this week.'  
  
'I had to get some groceries!' said Jesse, gesturing to the table littered with beer bottles and drug paraphenalia. 'Besides, I'll get more by the end of the week, you just tell him that.'  
  
'Right. It's just...' Skinny Pete hesitated. 'Um, you know...'  
  
'I can't give him more right now. That night at the strip joint cleaned me out.'  
  
'That was a good night,' said Badger solemnly.  
  
'What if he comes looking for you?' said Skinny Pete.  
  
'He won't,' said Jesse. 'I'm still paying him, aren't I? Look, don't worry. I'll just ask this dickhead I'm banging for a bit more this week. He's got a good job and all. He's the one who gave me all that money in the first place.'  
  
'For Tuco,' said Skinny Pete.  
  
'Christ, will you stop being such a bitch about it? He'll look after it. There's more money where that came from.'  
  
'Right.'  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence. Jesse glared at Skinny Pete, daring him to bring up the Tuco situation again.  
  
Badger coughed awkwardly. 'Yeah, anyway.  I don't know, older guys, though. Doesn't it take ages for them to get it up?'  
  
'Yeah, but I figure that they have to think about it more, so they're careful and put it to the best use.' Jesse sniffed.  
  
'So you like it?'  
  
Jesse scowled. 'It's just sex, isn't it? Do I look fucking gay or something? It's just better than-- I dunno -- whatever. Grab me another beer, already.'

* * *

  
  
'All right! Let's get this show on the road!'

Walt sat back on his haunches. 'Jesse, I don't know if you've ever  been versed in bedroom talk -- I'd guess not -- but that is definitely _not_ what I expect to hear in this context.'

  
Jesse lay back against the headboard of his bed. 'It's not like you can be dignified when you're all naked expect for like your socks and you've got a boner that won't quit, Mr. White.'

'Shut up,' said Walt. He took off his socks, reached for the lube and slathered it on himself, then poured a generous amount onto his hand and spread it on Jesse's ass.  
  
'C'mon, bitch. Quit the foreplay. I've been waiting for _ages_.'  
  
'Jesse!' he scolded.  
  
Jesse grinned.  He gave a small, pleasured sigh when Walt slid into him. He had grown to like the feeling of this; it felt right to be under Walt, his dick snug within him. It didn't even feel like work anymore. Despite his grumbling to his friends, he had found himself looking forward to this weekly ritual; he liked the banter, the heated exchange of insults before they got down to it and rendered everything that had come before meaningless, because you sure as hell couldn't pretend to be mad about things when you were orgasming.  
  
There was nothing to worry about when he was with Mr. White; he liked handing over control. When he was praised for doing something right, he couldn't help it -- he beamed with pride. He remembered every word of encouragement, every offhand remark. To Jesse, being good at fucking was just as valid a reason to be proud as understanding the periodic table.  
  
He knew which one brought him more pleasure.  
  
He loved the feel of Walt's scratchy beard against his chest, following the line of his tattoo. There wasn't anything wrong in enjoying his work now and again. He flexed his toes, closing his eyes in ecstasy as Walt pounded into him.

  
After, Jesse took a shower, threw on some sweats and padded through to the kitchen while Mr. White used the bathroom. He took one look inside the fridge and its unsavoury contents before he rang for a pizza. He had tried to make huevos rancheros for Mr. White one night, but he'd been roundly criticised on everything from the eggs to his cutlery etiquette ('fuck off, all right? I know how to set a table'). He didn't want to spoil the glow of praise he had from tonight's activities.  
  
He threw himself on the couch and turned the TV on. He couldn't help feel a little pleased with the way things had turned out; this beat spending Friday nights at The Crossroads wondering if some client was going to go too far. Here he was, in the comfort of his own home, with someone he trusted and now they were finished and could hang out eating pizza and watching TV. It was all he ever wanted. He smiled as Walt wandered into the den.

He handed a beer to Walt as he sat down next to him. 'I ordered pizza.'  
  
'Good,' said Walt distractedly. 'What's this we're watching?'  
  
' _Man vs Food_.'  
  
'What?'  
  
' _Man vs Food_.' Jesse shrugged. 'Sometimes the guy wins, sometimes the food wins.'  
  
Walt raised an eyebrow. 'Do you ever stop to listen to what you're saying?'  
  
'I didn't commission it, all right? Get off my ass.' He cast a sidelong glance at Walt, and was gratified to see that he hadn't taken offence.  
  
'Did you get dipping sticks?' asked Walt eventually.    
  
'Of course I did,' he said. 'Hells, yeah.'  
  
They sat in companionable silence for a while, Walt exercising excellent restraint and only muttering under his breath a couple of times as the excited presenter waxed lyrical about pulled pork sandwiches.  
  
Jesse's cellphone buzzed. He picked it up and read the message from Skinny Pete:

  
  
 _Call me. NOW. No credit_

  
  
Sighing, Jesse selected his name and put the phone to his ear, listening to the ring tone begin sounding out. He cast a terse smile at Walt, who shook his head. 'What?' he mouthed.  
  
'Put it down.'  
  
Jesse pulled the phone away from his ear. 'What?' he said. 'Don't you be tellin' me--' but as Walt continued to glare at him, he killed the call. 'What now?'  
  
'Don't pick up the phone when you're with me.'  
  
'Why not?' he asked belligerently.    
  
'You're on the clock, that's why.'  
  
'Uh, it's gone half nine,' said Jesse. He held up his cellphone. 'See? I checked out a half hour  ago.'  
  
'Then I'll pay you another 20 dollars. Now put the phone down.'  
  
'Douche,' Jesse said, but there was not heat in it. 'And forget the 20 bucks, okay?'  
  
'No, no; it's only fair,' said Walt. He reached for his jeans.  
  
Jesse lay a hand on his. 'I'm just saying, you don't hafta pay all the time.' He sat back. 'Just have a beer with me, watch some TV. This is pretty chill, isn't it?'  
  
Walt stared at Jesse, resentment cresting within him at Jesse's earnest blue gaze. 'What do you think this is?' he spat.  
  
Jesse withdrew his hand, gripped his own wrist as if for support. 'I dunno...?'  
  
'No, really,' he said, his voice hardening. 'Tell me.'  
  
'I just thought--' he trailed off, glanced at Walt again.  
  
'What did you think?' he pressed.  
  
'Well, dontcha like just spending time with me?'  
  
Walt threw up his hands. 'I don't spend time with you! I'm not your friend, Jesse. I'm not -- I don't like that shit you watch on TV. I'm not interested in you and your scintillating conversation. It's a business transaction, that's all.'  
  
Jesse lowered his head. He raised one eyebrow and looked down to the right, which gave him a curiously distressed air. 'What are you being like that for?' he muttered.  
  
'Like what?' he said. 'Honest? You can't handle honest?'  
  
'I thought you -- you picked me out of all the others,' he said.  
  
Walt stood up. The mood was utterly gone now; he had to leave or he was going to end up in a fistfight. 'Don't flatter yourself,' he said. 'You were merely the first person I came across for this experiment--'  
  
'Whoah, _experiment_? Am I a rat or something? What the hell am I to you?' said Jesse hotly. He stood up himself now, anger giving him the impetus to finally hold Walt's gaze.  
  
'You don't do anything for me that a thousand drugged-up losers wouldn't,' said Walt. 'Don't you dare ever presume you mean anything to me -- or to anyone else, for that matter.'  
  
With a cry of rage, Jesse leapt at Walt. They grappled for a few seconds, but the fight left Jesse almost as immediately as it had consumed him. He collapsed back onto the couch. 'Go on,' he said, his voice raw. 'Fucking leave.'  
  
'You know--'  
  
'Leave,' said Jesse, his expression steely now. 'You think I'm weak, Mr. White. I've said goodbye to assholes more times than you've whacked off to the periodic table. Go on, get the fuck out of here.'  
  
Walt nodded. He stalked over to the bannister, where he had draped his coat. He pulled it on with angry, jerking motions. 'Fine!' he said. He pointed a finger at Jesse. 'This business transaction -- which, again, I remind you was all it ever was -- is over.'  
  
'Yeah, yeah.  Just get out!' Jesse cast him an evil glare. 'It's not like I begged your wrinkled old ass to come into my life. Have fun dying or having a stroke or something.'  
  
Walt patted him on the shoulder as he moved past him. 'Enjoy your life, junkie.'  
  
'I will, asshole!' he shouted, as Walt slammed the door behind him.  He fished for the remote, and turned up the sound on the television. On screen, the presenter struggled to keep himself from retching as he crammed another hot dog into his face. Jesse empathised completely; his heart sank at the realisation that tomorrow he would have to return to The Crossroads.


End file.
